


When Dreams Die

by plantsandstars



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F, F/M, Magical, What they deserve, giving the bi's what they want, harry potter-esque
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 13:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16535534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantsandstars/pseuds/plantsandstars
Summary: This dragon age story is a (dragon) pAGE turner.That's all.





	When Dreams Die

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by me playing a mage for the first time.

Nights in the Circle were never calm, never quiet, never dull. Young mages practiced cantrips and spells in shifts, keeping watch for Enchanters making their rounds. They whispered all through the night and there was always at least one flame flickering on the cold stone. The older mages generally snuck off to the library, their magic theory books confusing even without distraction.  
Neria Surana was hunched in her favorite corner, reading and rereading books on Primal Magic. She’d always struggled on calling the elements and she was sure the Harrowing would require she not fumble over a simple flame cantrip. Although, the words on the page were blurry and nonsensical, and her eyes had begun to droop. Neria realized the library was completely dark except for her flickering light, a sign she’d stayed up much too late.  
She carefully replaced her books, placing the three general magic books in a nearby shelf and clutching tight to the remaining as she searched for the Primal magic section. She found it around a corner, in the middle of the library. A desk lay against the wall, piled with notebooks and scribblings. She placed her candlestick on the desk and maneuvered a stool below the book’s row. Standing on her tiptoes, she just barely reached the shelf.  
A book had fallen in the gap and as Neria stretched to push it up, the stool wobbled and she fell. She heard the book fall to the floor and felt strong arms wrap around her waist. Despite the support, gravity still had her way and Neria fell with a thump on her savior.   
Cullen looked red as a beet beneath her, his arms till clutching tightly to her waist. She almost laughed at the look on his face and she felt her heart give a strange tug, felt tears begin to well up. Cullen was blabbering hushed apologies as Neria got up, turning her head to wipe at her cheeks. She caught a glimpse of the book that had fallen and saw it was open on an illustration. Before she could look closer, Cullen placed his hand on her chin and tilted her head to him.   
“Are you crying, Nerie?”  
His golden brows drew together as he brushed her cheeks.  
“I’m fine, Cullen.” She said with a laugh, “I think it’s just the late hour. What are you doing out of bed? Don’t templars need beauty sleep?”  
He seemed to relax, gifting her a small smile. He moved his hands away, brushing her hair from her face.  
“And mages don’t?”  
Neria acted offended, “Why, Cullen, are you saying I’m no-”  
He stopped her remark with a quick move, pressing his lips to hers. She started, eyes wide, but quickly recovered. She pulled him closer and moved her hand up his torso to his neck. His hair was soft between her fingers and she felt another tug, another strangeness pull at her. She pushed it down and focused on breathing, on not bursting with joy and desire.   
Cullen moved his hand down Neria’s back, clutching the fabric of her nightgown. And that’s when Neria noticed something strange. Cullen was in armor. She pulled away and stared at his chest. He was wearing rusty, bulky armor that didn’t resemble any templar armor she’d ever seen. His boots were caked in dirt and something that looked terrifyingly close to blood. Laying next to his feet was the book, open to an illustration she could now make out to be a dragon.   
She looked up at Cullen’s face, golden and pudgy and angular, charming Cullen who shot her shy glances in the hall and stammered small talk while staring hard at the floor. Who made her warm soup when she was sick and talked with her for hours about the world outside. Cullen, who listened intently to the chant every morning, regardless of the bags under his eyes. Who helped her study magic and listened to her plans, her wants, her desires for freedom. She looked into Cullen’s face and screamed at the monster staring back at her.  
Its skin was rotting flesh, terror brought to shape, oozing with blood and liquid, falling to pieces in front of her. Its eyes were white and dull, its teeth decaying yellow. The monster pushed Neria against a shelf, baring its array of jagged teeth, each more gruesome than the next. Neria screamed in terror, in grief, in pain and frustration.  
She screamed until she woke up and her screams became sobs. She wept for hours, shaking and gasping, terrified of who she would be when she stopped, clutching to the innocence of tears and longing.   
When she did stop it was with a feeling of finality. Tiredness fell on her like a blanket and she went into a dreamless slumber, waking to the sound of Alistair and Morrigan arguing outside her tent.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Cullen apparently having a crush on you if you're a mage. He's apparently got a thing for powerful women, and I really can't blame him.


End file.
